Page 112 of Host for the Holidays
And then I see her, slowing from a jog, just like me, her camera bag bumping against her hip.
She stops, her gaze on me, her chest rising and falling, and we both stand there, ten feet between us.
“You left,” she said, and I can see the uncertainty in her face. She doesn’t know what to make of me abandoning ship.
“I came back.”
She takes a few steps toward me. “Came back for what?”
I breathe in deeply. The fact that she’s here right now and I can’t see Josh anywhere around is a good sign, but I’m not here to make assumptions. I’m here to make it 100% clear to Madi what I want and to let her do the same. “I came back to convince you to choose me, Madi. I know we haven’t known each other very long—not nearly as long as you’ve known Josh, but . . .”
She steps up right in front of me and looks up into my face. “What makes you think I need to be convinced?”
I swallow, then gesture vaguely toward the esplanade. “You just got the most amazing sales pitch I’ve ever seen. Everything you’ve been wanting.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t want a sales pitch, Rémy. It’s not the grand gesture I’m interested in. I want the little stuff.” She looks down at my hand and takes it, pulling it up to chest level and threading her fingers through mine. “I want sticky notes left on my cheese and baguette. I want gentle urges to face my fears and support to give me the courage.” She looks up and into my eyes. “I want someone who pays for a stranger's Airbnb because she’s an absolute disaster, melting into a pool of puddle iron.”
I open my mouth, then shut it. “Josh told you?”
Her mouth turns into a lopsided smile. “I told him I’d reimburse him, and he got confused. He assumed I had paid for the remaining balance.” Her expression grows more serious, and she tightens her hold on my hand. “Youare everything I’ve been wanting. I don’t know what happens in eight days, Rémy. I have no clue how we’re going to make this work. But I want to give things a real shot. I will fly here every weekend, lose my luggage, and get stuck in every elevator in Paris if it means I get to be with you.”
I pull our clasped hands to my lips and kiss her knuckles. “Why do you get to give your sales pitch, but I don’t get to give mine?”
She smiles as I wrap an arm around her waist. “Every second I’ve spent with you has sold me on you, Rémy.” She holds my gaze, soft and intent. “I want you. All of you.”
“You’ve got it, Stars and Stripes.” I press my lips to hers, and a hushedoohsounds. We break apart at the reaction, unaware we had an audience.
But we don’t, and the sound effect is not for us. The Eiffel Tower just started sparkling.
We look at each other and laugh softly.
“Little do they know,” I say, “the real show’s back here.”
“Such a shame,” she says, reaching up and moving a piece of hair out of my eyes. “Guess we should make it a regular performance, then. For their sakes.”
I laugh and take her face in my hands, looking into her eyes. She may not let me give her my full pitch, but she can’t stop me from the condensed version. “I love you, Madi.”
She shuts her eyes and smiles, waiting for me to kiss her. “Je t’aime, Rémy.”
EPILOGUE
MADI
I’m runningon very little sleep, but I’mwired. I’m looking out the taxi windows like I’ve never seen Paris before. And it’s true in a way; I’ve never seen Paris like this. It’s autumn, and it’s . . . different. The light, the smell in the air, the energy.
I grin like a fool because I’mthrilledto be back. It’s September and, even though I was here as recently as the end of May, it feels too long.
I actually look much better than I should after such a long day and night of travel, but Siena forced me to change and freshen up before we left the airport. We’ll be going directly to surprise Rémy.
Siena’s sitting opposite me in the taxi, looking out her window. She’s been helping me with this surprise for Rémy, and when I invited her to come stay for a week, she jumped at the chance.
She shoots me a glance through narrowed eyes that sayI could kill you. “Your life is a joke. You know that, right? Moving to Paris to be with your hot boyfriend and take pictures for a job?”
When she puts it like that, it does sound pretty great. “Hey, it hasn’t exactly been smooth sailing.”
Figuring out how to legally work in France has been a headache. Despite all the requests for sessions I’ve gotten, I haven’t been able to formally charge for them during the months I’ve spent in Paris. All I’ve been able to do is accept “donations,” which, to be fair, most people have been generous with.
In the meantime, I worked on and finished up the city guide and also let my social media followers know I was available to do shoots anywhere within a couple hours of home during the months I spent in California. Surprisingly, a lot of people reached out to me. Since then, my following has continued to grow, and I’ve been earning actual money. Enough to live off of. *Cue happy tears.*
